Taken the Scrape
by Thistle of Liberty
Summary: Tag to 5x03 "Reckoner". Rossi deals with Reid's lie and with Hotch's frustration. WARNING! Contains non-sexual spanking of an adult.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: An Easter egg for all of you. :) This is a tag to episode 5x03 "Reckoner" and is set perhaps a couple of weeks after "Memories You Share". I hope you enjoy it! **

* * *

_A lie will easily get you out of a scrape, and yet, strangely and beautifully, rapture possesses you when you have taken the scrape and left out the lie. _

Charles Edward Montague

* * *

"Spencer."

Reid swallowed as he slowly turned to face Rossi, fumbling a little with his crutches as he did so.

"Sit down," Rossi ordered, making Reid swallow again. Because the tone of Rossi's voice was the one that made it perfectly clear that Reid was in deep trouble and would most likely end up over someone's knee soon.

"Rossi?" he squeaked.

"You lied," the older man stated quietly, crossing his arms as he looked down at Reid with the same stare both he, Gideon and Hotch seemed to share.

"Technically…" Reid began, but he was interrupted by a sharp hand movement from Rossi.

"It was a lie. A deliberate, calculated lie. Have you got anything to say for yourself?"

Biting his lower lip, Reid's eyes darted off to the side as he tried to find something that might appease Rossi. "I… I really am well enough to fly."

"Then why didn't the doctor clear you?"

"Because he was being overly cautious! I'm fine."

Rossi's lips tightened and for a moment he just shook his head silently. "Reid, when you get a medical degree, you get to have an opinion. Until then, you follow doctor's orders."

"But…"

"Reid," Rossi broke him off again, "Are you telling me you don't understand why you need to listen to what _a trained medical doctor_ tells you? Because I'd be happy to explain."

Reid hesitated, trying to gauge Rossi's mood. "No," he said finally, "I understand that. But…"

"No buts, Spencer. _You_ _lied._ That will never be acceptable." He stared at Reid in silence, arms crossed over his chest. Then he shook his head. "All right, I'm going to deal with you when we get back from the case. Until then, consider yourself grounded. Gideon's place."

"You'll tell him?"

Rossi's answering smile was really far too benevolent to be safe, so Reid wasn't surprised when he replied. "Of course not. _You_ will."

"He'll be mad," Reid said, giving Rossi his best pleading look. But apparently, Rossi had grown immune to that, because he raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"Maybe you should've thought of that before you lied. But you can tell him that I'll be dealing with it"

"What if he wants to… wants to spank me anyway?" This time Reid didn't even need to try to look pleading; he didn't _really_ think Gideon would spank him once he knew that Rossi intended to, but sometimes the retired profiler was unreasonably strict and Reid had no wish to get two spankings for his… kind of lie.

"Then you'll have to sort it out with him," Rossi replied with a shrug, completely unsympathetic, "Anyway, until we get back I want you to think about a few things, all right?"

"Okay…?"

"And I want you to have proper answers. Firstly, _why_? You knew you wouldn't get away with it. Second, if you _had _gotten away with it, would you have gotten on the plane?"

Reid crossed his arms, lowering his head and letting his hair curtain his face. "Well, like you said, I _wouldn't _have gotten away with it," he muttered.

"You study philosophy, Reid. I'm sure you can handle some hypothetical thinking. I could always find someone to teach you, otherwise."

In some way that Reid couldn't figure out, Rossi managed to make the offer sound threatening and without hesitation Reid shook his head empathically. "No sir, you don't need to do that. I'll… I'll think about it."

"Good."

Reid nodded, then hesitated for a moment. "Rossi? How long do you think you'll be?"

The older man's expression softened slightly and he gave a strand of Reid's hair a light flick. "No more than a few days. And look, I know it's tough waiting for punishment, but again: you should've thought of that before."

"You could just do it now?"

"'Fraid not, kiddo. Try to behave yourself until we get back."

* * *

"Just call him now."

Reid looked up to glare at Garcia, still fiddling with his phone. "That's easy for you to say. He's not gonna come here and yell at _you_."

"Well, it's only gonna make him madder if you wait," Garcia pointed out, raising her eyebrows.

"I'll tell him I didn't get the opportunity."

"Oh, sweet-cheeks…" Garcia's tone was kind, almost a bit sympathetic. Reid looked up at her again, frowning.

"What?" he demanded.

"You can't lie to Gideon. Not even over the phone."

"I can too," Reid protested. With a small grimace, he then added in a mutter. "Sometimes."

"Well, do you really wanna take the chance that now is one of those times?"

Reid sighed, glaring at his phone. Why did Gideon even have to know? "All right, I'll call. But if he wants to come here, you need to help me pretend we're busy."

Swirling around in her chair, Garcia raised her eyebrows at Reid, head tilted. "Cupcake, you realize that any deceptions or lies or anything like that is only gonna get you in more trouble? They all _hate _lies."

With another sigh, Reid nodded in agreement. Gideon, Hotch and Rossi all had a fierce dislikes of lies – or deception, or obfuscation, or just letting them believe something that was untrue – and thought spanking him was a perfectly reasonable reaction to it.

"I guess." He sighed deeply, raising his head to give Garcia a woe-be-me look. "What if he wants to spank me?"

Garcia seemed to consider for a while. "You can tell him that Rossi seemed really angry."

"And that's not a lie?"

"I don't know," Garcia said, shrugging, "Is it?"

"Not really…" Reid admitted, "Like you said, he hates lying."

"So call Gideon. And if you call him now, he'll probably come just in time for the team to land and need our expertise."

Deciding that she had a point there, Reid stopped fiddling with his phone and pushed the buttons to call Gideon. "Why can't he be out of town when it's convenient?" he grumbled before Gideon had picked up, getting a small chuckle from Garcia. At least someone was enjoying his misfortune.

"Gideon."

Reid had tried pointing out to the older man that he didn't have to answer with his name when it was someone he knew who was the caller, but Gideon hadn't listened to him yet.

"Uh, hi. It's me."

"Reid?" Gideon's tone was mildly curious, the man obviously having caught the nervousness in Reid's tone.

"Uhm… so, are you gonna go out of town this week? I hear there's an ornithology convention in Vegas."

"I just got back home the day before yesterday. And you know we talked about going to that Islamic art exhibition."

Reid hesitated. "So you're gonna be home?"

"Yes," Gideon said, his tone now a little curt. Apparently Reid's vagueness wasn't appreciated. "Why are you calling, Spencer?"

Okay, first name. Not good.

"Rossi says I'm grounded," he admitted in a quiet mumble, "But they're on a case, so it's to your place."

Gideon was silent for a beat. "You're not with them? I thought the doctor cleared you."

"That… might have been a bit less than entirely true."

For what seemed like an eternity, there was silence on the other end of the line. Judging, disapproving and stern silence. Then Gideon spoke. "I'm assuming Rossi said he'd handle it once they get back?"

"Yeah. And I think he's going to spank me really hard." Reid tried to sound as vulnerable and small as possible, hoping that it would make Gideon reconsider any plans he might have about spanking Reid himself.

His effort was rewarded with a small chuckle. "I'm not going to spank you, as long as you behave yourself. If Dave – or Hotch – punishes you for something, I won't."

"Oh. So… you're not angry?"

"I'm not happy. I expect you to be honest with all of us. But since Dave will handle it…"

"Sooo… you won't ground me?" Reid asked hopefully. Gideon scoffed.

"No, I won't. Because Dave already has."

Reid sighed. "So I _am_ grounded?"

"Yes. When Dave or Hotch have decided on a punishment, I won´t change it."

"What if it's not a fair punishment?" Reid challenged.

"Do you think they would give you an unfair punishment?" Gideon countered calmly. Since the answer to that would only help Gideon make his point, Reid didn't answer. He hated it when the older man was right. "I'll pick you up sometime tonight. Try to behave yourself until then."

* * *

"Are you frightened?"

Reid stilled, forcing his eyes from the landscape quickly passing them by to look at Rossi. He shook his head. "No, I… Just nervous."

"Good," Rossi replied with a short nod, "That you're not frightened. I won't hurt you. And good that you're nervous, as well. You won't be enjoying this discussion."

Pushing his hair out of his face, Reid nodded his understanding and returned to look out the window. He didn't doubt either of Rossi's statements. He'd never actually been afraid of either Gideon, Hotch or Rossi really hurting him, but all of them seemed to need to make sure of that from time to time. Especially Hotch. And that he was right to be nervous… well, that was pretty much a given considering what they were on their way to.

"Reid?" Rossi asked after a few minutes' silence, "Gideon ever use something other than his hand on you?"

Reid swallowed. "Uh…" he began, feeling his face heating, "Yeah. A ruler. Are you going to… to use something other?"

Rossi gave him a long look, then just shook his head before changing the subject. "You think about what I told you to?"

Not looking at Rossi, Reid nodded. "Yeah. I did."

"Reach any conclusions?"

"Kind of."

"Okay. Good. We'll talk about it at the cabin."

* * *

"Take a seat." Rossi nodded toward the couch, waiting for Reid to obey before he sat down in the armchair facing it. "So. Let's start with the easiest question. If you'd gotten away with it, would you have flown with us? Yes or no."

Reid shifted under the man's heavy gaze, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth for a moment before he gave a small nod. "Yes. I would."

Rossi nodded as if he had expected the answer – and he probably had; he was a profiler, after all – but didn't say anything more before he continued. "And how about an explanation for why you lied?"

"I wanted to get back in the field," Reid muttered, nervously twisting the watch on his wrist back and forth.

"Attention on me, Spencer," Rossi reprimanded, waiting until Reid folded his hands in his lap and raised his eyes before he continued, "And that's another lie. We've already established you knew you wouldn't get away with it. So again, why?"

"Because the doctor was wrong! I'm well enough to fly."

Sighing, Rossi raised a hand to rub his forehead, closing his eyes for a moment. "Reid, do you really think you know better than a trained medical doctor?"

Reid hesitated, squirming and looking everywhere but at Rossi. "I… well, no. I guess not," he finally admitted. "But Hotch gets to fly!"

"Hotch was cleared by a doctor," Rossi retorted sharply. Then he frowned thoughtfully, studying Reid in silence for a while before he shook his head with a disbelieving look. "Is that what this is about? Hotch is in the field so you think you need to be as well?"

Wrapping his arms around himself, Reid shrugged. "I wasn't hurt worse than him. He was stabbed nine times! Why should he work and not me?"

"Because he was cleared by a doctor," Rossi replied. Reid pursed his lips.

"Yeah, well, even if he hadn't he would have gone out into the field!"

Rossi shrugged. "Possibly, and then he wouldn't sit for a week."

It was still a little disturbing for Reid to hear about Hotch being spanked, but it was beginning to sink in. In part, he thought, because of the team's stay with the Leroys, who seemed to consider Hotch to be pretty much in the same category as Reid. Which was the belongs-at-the-children's-table-category.

"Besides, just because Hotch does something it doesn't mean you should do it."

Reid raised his chin, glaring at Rossi. "Why? Because you think I'm a kid?"

"No, because sometimes what Hotch does is stupid," Rossi snapped back. His face softening, he tilted his head. "Look, kid, I get that you admire Hotch and want to model yourself after him and that's great. Usually. Hotch is an excellent role model, in most areas. But not when it comes to self-preservation. When it comes to that, you should probably consider him the opposite, actually."

Frowning, Reid considered the older man's words. He was probably right, he supposed. Reid knew, at least, that if he did some of the things Hotch did, he'd end up with a sore butt. And so had Hotch, he supposed. But the thing was that Hotch did those things anyway. He went out into the field when he wasn't fully healed and he took risks. Because he thought getting the job done was more important than the threat of a spanking.

"Reid?" Rossi prompted, "Is there something else?"

For a moment, Reid studied Rossi from behind the strands of hair that had fallen into his face, considering whether to try to make his point or not. He doubted Rossi would think it was an acceptable excuse, but the more reasons he had for his actions, the less angry Rossi could be about them. He hoped.

Pushing his hair out of his face, Reid shrugged. "Hotch thinks doing his job even when you don't like it is worth getting punished about. Why shouldn't I?"

Rossi sighed deeply. "That's… not really true, kiddo. Believe me, Hotch doesn't think it's been worth it one single time he's disobeyed me."

Reid blushed at the clear implication in Rossi's words – because it _was_ uncomfortable thinking about his Unit Chief being spanked – and tugged distractedly at his cuff. "I just… I didn't want you to think I'm… less committed than Hotch is."

Pushing a hand through his hair, Rossi said a word in Italian that Reid was pretty sure he'd get glared at for repeating. "You kids are all messed up, anyone ever tell you that? There's a difference between committed to your job and doing it at the expense of your health, Reid. And this team seems to have a problem making that distinction. Which is why you have me. You don't need to make any decisions about when you're well enough to work; you only need to do as you're told."

"What if I don't agree with you?" Reid challenged.

"Then you tell me. I'm not unreasonable, Reid, and neither is Gideon and Hotch. We're all prepared to listen to you. The problem is that you lied. You understand that, don't you?"

Reid inclined his head. "Yes, I understand, but…" He trailed off as Rossi raised his eyebrows, clearly skeptical of whatever Reid was going to say, and instead lowered his eyes to the floor, giving the edge of the carpet a small kick.

"Don't sulk, Spencer. This isn't exactly news to you. Lying has never been acceptable."

"I know," Reid conceded with a deep sigh.

"All right, good. So, you wanna get it over with right away?"

"I guess." Reid hesitated and Rossi must have realized that he wasn't finished, because he didn't move. After some deliberation, Reid looked up at Rossi, frowning thoughtfully. "Rossi? Why are _you_, eh… handling this?"

"Because Hotch isn't really in any state to right now," Rossi replied, "and… well, because. I love you and I want you safe and healthy."

Reid shifted uncomfortably at the older man's word. Love. He didn't really doubt that Rossi was telling the truth – they'd had a discussion about that – but it was still a little strange.

After studying Reid in silence for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in thought, Rossi gave a sharp nod and stood, brushing off his pants. "All right. Wait here."

Reid obeyed, looking after Rossi retreating figure with a growing sense of doom. Because he had a pretty good idea of what Rossi's mission was. Namely, to get some instrument of torture to help make his point. Gideon had used a wooden ruler on Reid a few times and if what Rossi had in mind was anything like that, running away while the man's back was turned might be an option.

When Rossi returned moments later he was carrying a wooden hairbrush in his hand. A big heavy-looking hairbrush. Instinctively, Reid pushed himself backwards into the sofa.

"I really don't think you need to use that," he said, noting that his voice was a little shrill. Rossi shrugged.

"I don't need to. But I'm going to. Lying is unacceptable and jeopardizing your health even more so."

"I didn't jeopardize my health!"

"But you were going to. Because, what? You wanted to prove that you're just as boneheaded as Hotch?"

Reid squirmed slightly under the man's accusing tone. "No-oo," he said, hiding a wince when he realized just how much of a whine his voice ended up sounding like, "Not boneheaded. Just… committed."

Rossi shook his head. "You're splitting hairs. You _knew_ you shouldn't fly, right?"

"Yeah…"

"And you ignored that." Rossi replied in a tone of finality. "That's the problem. Stand up."

"You really don't need to do this," Reid tried, trying to be surreptitious about scooting away from Rossi as the older man took a seat next to him. "I… I didn't actually do anything dangerous!"

"And you'd have a tougher punishment coming if you had actually flown with us, but trying to break the rules and then failing still gets you a spanking, kid."

"Yes, but with… that?" He indicated the brush in Rossi's hand, fixing him with his best pleading look.

"This isn't the first time you've lied, and it's not the first time you've risked your health," Rossi replied calmly. He raised his eyebrows. "Now get up."

Since Rossi's tone was the sternest it had been all day, Reid suppressed any further protests and with a gulp stood up. Rossi gave Reid's belt a light tap. "Pants off, kiddo."

"But…"

"Spencer Reid," Rossi broke him off, his voice almost a growl, "You've been arguing with me and stalling since we got here. I don't want one more word out of you until I tell you to speak. Is that understood?"

His eyes widened slightly, Reid nodded emphatically.

"Good. So pants off."

Since he seemed to have no other options left, Reid obeyed, fumbling a little as he did so. His coordination didn't exactly improve when he was about to have his butt roasted. He compliantly let Rossi tug down the pants to his knees and then pull him over his lap, adjusting him so both his upper body and his legs rested on the sofa.

"Tell me if your knee hurts," Rossi ordered, "I'm trusting you to be honest with me here. Can I do that?"

Reid nodded. "Yes sir."

"Okay." With that, Rossi pushed his boxers down to join his pants and started spanking.

"Tell me why I'm spanking you," he said after about a dozen swats.

"Because I lied," Reid replied quickly and continued without being prompted, "And for being about to fly when I wasn't cleared to."

It didn't seem very likely, but maybe if they got the reasons for the punishment out of the way quickly enough, Rossi would make it a shorter spanking. You could always hope.

"That's right. And a tip for next time; tone down the arguing, okay?" With that, Rossi hardened the swats.

Reid was a bit put out that the older man apparently assumed that there definitely _would _be a next time, but he didn't argue. Partly because he wasn't exactly in a position ideal for disagreeing with Rossi and partly because he was probably right. Reid promised himself after every spanking he got that he would never ever get in trouble again, but he seemed to inevitably do so anyway. At least it was becoming less often.

Rossi continued spanking at a fast pace and soon he had covered Reid's entire backside and upper thighs and the swats were falling on already spanked skin, which hurt _a lot_ more.

"I get that you look up to Hotch," Rossi spoke after a while, his words punctuated by sharp swats, "but if I tell you not to do something, it doesn't matter if he does it; you don't do it. Understood?"

"Y-yes sir," Reid confirmed immediately, stumbling a little over the words as he held back a gasp of pain. Did Rossi have to spank so hard?

After that Rossi continued the punishment in silence, leaving nothing for Reid to focus on other than the hard wood smacking down again and again. Soon Reid was squirming over Rossi's knees, every instinct in him telling him to pull away from the source of the steadily growing pain.

"Okay, I get it now," he said quickly, "You made your point. I'll never lie again!"

Rossi snorted. "We've barely gotten started, kid."

That wasn't particularly comforting.

The swats continued raining down at an unwavering pace and even though Rossi was systematic and predicable in where the next smack would fall, the split-second of anticipation in between each swat were becoming more and more agonizing as each swat became more and more painful. And Reid wasn't _really_ trying to twist away from the swats with his squirming; it just hurt too much to stay still.

"I- I'm sorry!" he stuttered out between short sob-like breaths.

"Good," Rossi said but inexorably kept spanking. And it made Reid feel a bit childish, but the realization that there would be no relief from the pain anytime soon made the tears in his eyes spill over. Annoyed, he buried his face in his arms and tried not to be too obvious in his crying.

"Sorry!" he repeated, "I'm sorry. P-please stop!"

To his surprise, Rossi did stop, resting the brush against Reid's thigh. "Does your knee hurt?" he asked sharply.

Reid took a few deep breaths, grateful for the reprieve. And if he had any sense, he'd tell Rossi that his knee _was_ hurting and he had to stop the spanking right now. But… well, Rossi had said that he trusted Reid to be honest, and Reid wanted to keep that trust.

"N-no," he admitted quietly, suppressing a sniffle.

"Then we're not done."

After only a few swats more Reid almost regretted not lying; screw being trusted, not having his butt lit on fire was more important. But he didn't speak up again, just sobbed quietly into his arms and twisted as much as he could in Rossi's firm hold.

Without warning, Rossi pushed him forward a bit and began aiming his swats at the very top of Reid's thighs. Making a small distressed sound Reid reflexively threw back a hand to stop the onslaught but Rossi quickly caught it and gave his wrist a small reprimanding squeeze. Without any options left to escape the spanking, Reid surrendered completely and endured the final half dozen swats lying limp over Rossi's knee.

It took until Rossi gave his back a gentle pat for him to notice the spanking was over but even then the flow of tears didn't stop. Rossi didn't make any move to get him to his feet, either; he just rubbed Reid's back in soothing circles.

"Shh…" he mumbled softly, "It's fine. We're done now. You did well. I've got you. Calm down, son."

Slowly, helped along by the soothing words and the hand on his back, Reid calmed down and began drawing deep, slow breaths. The sting in his backside hadn't really lessened, but simply not having it added to was relief enough.

"You wanna get up?" Rossi asked after a while.

"Yeah."

With Rossi's help, Reid got to his feet, being careful with his knee. After pulling his boxers and pants up, he dried away the tears from his face with his hand, sniffling, and was about to wipe his nose when a small chuckle from Rossi interrupted him and he was given a handkerchief.

"You okay?" Rossi asked after Reid had used it to wipe away the rest of his tears and blow his nose. Reid nodded, pushing away the hair from his face. Instead of a reply, he was pulled into an embrace, his head guided down to rest in the crook of Rossi's neck. After a moment's consideration, Reid raised his arms to return the hug, a bit awkwardly. As a rule, he disliked physical contact, bur hugs from Rossi were… kind of nice.

He was still on the fence about having his hair ruffled, though.

"'m fine now," he said after a while, when the hug was beginning to grow uncomfortable, slipping out of the older man's hold. Rossi let him, but captured his chin with a hand to hold him in place as he studied him.

"Good. Go take a nap, now."

Reid frowned. "I'm not tired."

"You will be. And I wasn't making a suggestion."

"Can't I read instead?"

Crossing his arms, Rossi gave him a look that Reid couldn't quite interpret, shaking his head. "Don't you have _any _sense of self-preservation, kid?"

Not sure what Rossi meant, Reid tilted his head. "I'm sorry?"

"When someone just spanked you, arguing isn't the best of ideas."

"I'm not arguing, I'm just…"

Rossi interrupted him with a hand movement, smiling slightly. "Another tip: if you need to preface something with 'I'm just' you probably shouldn't say it."

Pursing his lips, Reid frowned at Rossi. That wasn't very fair.

"I won't be able to go to sleep."

"Yes, you will. Now come on." He handed Reid his crutches and then, with a hand on his back, led him further into the cabin. "You can take Hotch's room for now. The bed's already made there. And for tonight we'll make the bed in the second guestroom."

"How many bedrooms does this place have?"

"Four."

"Isn't that kind of excessive?"

"No."

Reid glared at him, pressing his lips together. It really was unfair that everyone in his life got to do the things they reprimanded him for. Like answering questions with rude curtness, or cursing, or reading at the table.

Hotch's room was the one closest to the living room and they reached it quickly, which Reid was grateful for. Because while his knee didn't hurt very much anymore, his newly spanked backside made itself known every step he took. Rossi watched as he took a seat on the bed, not commenting when Reid winced at the contact. Embarrassingly enough, wince wasn't all Reid did; the sudden increase in pain and the reminder that he would have to endure a sore backside for the rest of the day brought tears to his eyes. He gave Rossi an accusing glare.

Rossi didn't seem particularly affected, but he did step over to Reid and ran a hand over his hair. "I know it hurts, son. It's supposed to."

"You didn't have to spank me so hard," Reid said, giving Rossi the wide-eyed look that Morgan said made him look like a kicked puppy.

"I spanked you exactly as hard as you deserved," Rossi retorted, apparently immune to Reid's plea for sympathy, "Now lie down. We'll eat in about half an hour."

Following Rossi's advice about not arguing – and noticing that he _was_ actually a bit sleepy – Reid obeyed, curling up on his side. Rossi studied him for a while, a kind, almost indulgent expression on his face.

"Hey, Rossi?" Reid mumbled, "Why'd you call me 'son'?"

Looking thoughtful, Rossi tilted his head. "Well… because it's true. You're my kid."

Reid frowned. "But… Hotch?"

Rossi shrugged, a small smile on his face. "Lots of people have more than one kid."

Blinking to keep sleep from overtaking him, Reid considered that for a while with pursed lips. It made sense, he supposed. "And Gideon?"

Rossi's smile widened and he reached out to push a strand of hair from Reid's face. "We shared an office for ten years. I'm sure we can handle sharing a kid."

"Oh." Reid considered for a moment. "Who's the mom and who's the dad?"

"Well, I'm the dad, obviously," Rossi replied, obviously trying to look serious but failing pretty badly. Imagining Gideon's face at being called a mom, Reid couldn't help but smile back at Rossi

"All right. Get some sleep now," Rossi ordered after a moment's pause, turning to walk out the door. Before he had exited, though, he stopped and turned to face Reid again. "And Reid? I'm proud of you for being honest about your knee, when I spanked you. And about having flown with us."

Reid smiled shyly, a bit embarrassed by how much the praise meant to him. "Thanks."

* * *

"Reid? Time for dinner."

Reid blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the light that had flooded the room, presumably from Rossi turning on the lamp.

"Hotch and Gideon are here," Rossi continued, still speaking softly, "I think Gideon wants to make sure I haven't killed you."

"Wha' are we havin'?" Reid mumbled, speech slurred from the haze of sleep refusing to leave him.

"Bolognese."

"'kay." Reid considered for a moment. "Why's Hotch here?"

"'Cause I want him to be. He's not really in a good place right now."

"I guess not," Reid mumbled, "I'll join you in ten minutes."

"You'll join us now."

"Five minutes?" Reid bargained.

"It's not a negotiation," Rossi said, "Now, Reid."

"But…"

"Or I could send Hotch to come get you?"

"I'm up." Reid immediately sat, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes with a fist. He really didn't want Hotch to 'come get him'. Rossi chuckled, shaking his head before he turned to leave. Fighting off the temptation to lie back down – which was rather easy with a mental picture of Hotch's stern face as incentive – Reid swung his legs over the bed, combing through his hair with his fingers before he stood, grabbed his crutches and headed for the dining room.

The sting in his butt had lessened, but it still throbbed with every step he took and he had a feeling that the fact that he had just been spanked was clearly visible from his stiff gait.

Hotch and Gideon were seated at the already set table when he entered the dining room, both turning their heads to give him concerned looks as he entered.

"You okay?" Gideon asked. Reid nodded.

"I guess. Sore."

"It'll pass soon," Hotch replied, looking sympathetic to Reid's pain. Then his face turned disapproving, and he leveled Reid with a stern look. "And you deserve it. You lied to us."

Reid lowered his eyes, shifting a little on his feet as he felt his face heating from his boss's censure. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I know you are," Hotch replied. His face softened. "And you've been punished. You're forgiven."

"Just don't do it again," Rossi said, coming from the doorway to the kitchen with a bowl in his hands. "Take a seat."

"I could eat in the living room?" Reid tried, giving Rossi a pleading look. Because sitting on Rossi's couch would, while not exactly comfortable, be a lot better than the dining room chairs.

"Or you could do as you're told and sit down."

Reid glanced at Hotch and Gideon, but neither of them seemed the slightest sympathetic to his plight. So with a deep sigh, Reid gingerly lowered himself into the chair opposite Hotch. He could almost feel Gideon's and Hotch's heavy gazes on him, looking for… something. Proof that he regretted his actions? Proof that Rossi hadn't hurt him?"

"I'm fine," he assured them, "And I won't lie again."

Hotch gave him a long look. "See that you don't."

"I'm sure he won't," Rossi said, placing the bowl on the table, "Our discussion was quite thorough."

He pushed his fingers through Reid's hair, disarranging it completely, and only smiled wider when Reid's face heated.

"I don't doubt it," Hotch muttered, making a small grimace and if Reid didn't know better he'd say that the Unit Chief shifted a little in his seat.

"Pass me your plate," Rossi ordered, holding out his hand to Reid and heaped on large portions of Bolognese salad before he handed it back, "Aaron."

Hotch obediently held out his plate in turn and after Rossi had served him he moved on to Gideon and then himself, before he finally sat down. "Well, go ahead."

Reid didn't need to be told twice; he immediately scooped up a generous amount of spaghetti on his fork. Apparently spankings made him hungry as well as sleepy.

"Are we still going to that Islamic art thing?" he asked Gideon after a few mouthfuls. The former profiler exchanged a look with Rossi, who shrugged.

"Fine by me," he said.

"Hey, you could come too!" Reid exclaimed excitedly. He hesitated, ducking his head. "I mean, if you want to."

Rossi smiled. "Sure, might be fun. We could make it a team outing, actually."

"Uh…" Reid said, not sure what to say. Because what he _wanted_ to say was that he didn't want it to be a team outing, that he wanted it to be just him and the two older men. Not because he didn't enjoy spending time with the entire team, it was just… sometimes he enjoyed being alone with Gideon, and in this case Rossi. But he wasn't sure how to say that without sounding like a sulky child who wanted his parents to himself.

"Actually, Dave," Gideon spoke up, "I'd prefer it if we didn't. You know I love them all, but they _can_ be a bit taxing."

The two men exchanged a meaningful look, obviously communicating something silently. It really was unfair how good people could be at that.

"Of course," Rossi said. Then he frowned, shooting Hotch a concerned look. "Are you gonna be okay alone, Aaron?"

The Unit Chief's lips pressed together into a thin line. "I'm not five years old. I'll be fine. You don't even need to leave a plate of food ready."

Rossi gave the younger man a long look, for a moment seeming as if he would say something sharp, but then he just shook his head. "All right, so it's settled. Unless something comes up, we go see some art on Saturday."

"Thanks," Reid said quietly, offering Rossi a shy smile. He suspected that the man was only coming along because Reid had asked him to – medieval Qur'an illustrations didn't really seem to be his thing – and Reid appreciated it.

"It'll be fun," Rossi replied, giving Reid a kind smile in return, "As long as you behave yourself."

Feeling his cheeks heating slightly, Reid ducked his head. "Rossi!"

"What? It's true."

"Yeah, but you don't need to _tell me_ to behave myself! I'm a grown man."

"Aah," Rossi said, nodding with an understanding expression that Reid was pretty sure was fake. "The grown man syndrome. You can compare symptoms with Hotch."

"Dave!" Hotch snapped, looking beyond annoyed. Rossi just raised his eyebrows at him, looking as if he was daring him to say something more. Hotch didn't.

"He can give you a heads-up on the cures, at least," Rossi added, now smiling, this time just getting an exasperated look from Hotch, "You'll prefer that to finding out yourself. Trust me."

* * *

"Did you know that Jesus is actually a really important prophet in Islam? He's mentioned in ninety-three verses in the Qur'an. He was the last prophet before Mohammed and foretold his coming."

"Uh-huh," Rossi said, not sounding very interested in the information Reid had shared and without looking away from the calligraphy he was studying. After a moment's hesitation, Reid continued.

"Obviously, he isn't considered the son of God, but he _was_ immaculately conceived. By Mary. There's actually a lot more common ground in the Abrahamic religion than a lot of people know."

"Do you know Arabic?" Rossi asked instead of answering that, turning around to look at Reid.

"Yeah. Well, kind of…. I read it."

"When'd you learn?"

"Last month," Reid replied, which made Rossi smile and slowly shake his head. Reid wasn't sure why.

"Reid, come and look at this," Gideon suddenly said from a few exhibits away. Reid gave Rossi a questioning look and the older man waved him on with another small smile. When Reid joined him, Gideon put a hand on his shoulder and pointed to an arch depicted on the page displayed. "See that? It's Allah's ninety-nine names, on every side. Imagine the work put into that. The detail."

"Yeah…" Reid said, tilting his head as he studied the miniature script. It really was rather impressive.

"Maybe someone disobeyed their parents," Rossi said from behind them, smirking when Reid turned to give him a disgruntled look.

Gideon chuckled. "It _is_ an effective punishment."

Feeling his face heating, Reid gave both of them as Hotch-like glares as he could manage. He enjoyed spending time with the two of them, but he wished they'd stay away from the teasing.

"Are you guys done?" Rossi asked. Gideon looked to Reid, eyebrows raised in question.

Reid shrugged. "I guess."

"We can stay if you like," Rossi said, giving Reid a thoughtful look, "It's not like we're in a hurry."

"Well…" Reid hesitated, looking between the two older men shyly, "Could we stay a while longer? I want to look at the Persian stuff."

"Of course." Rossi smiled at him. "I'm gonna go call Hotch."

"Dave," Gideon said, giving Rossi a meaningful look.

"What?" Rossi demanded, spreading his hands. Gideon sighed, turning to Reid and giving him a small push toward the Persian section.

"We'll join you in a minute," he said, keeping his eyes on Reid until he turned around and stalked off, frowning. That was another thing he disliked about spending time with the two older men; being sent away while they had 'adult' conversations. In this particular case he didn't really mind, since they would probably talk about Hotch, but in general it was very annoying. Especially since he knew that they sometimes talked about him. About rules and punishment and probably how much he was eating and what he was wearing.

Reid wondered, sometimes, how he had ever thought it would be nice to have a father in his life. When he was a kid and there was no-one to care when he came home from school bruised and beaten, or when his teacher said his paper was good enough to be published he had often wished that there would be someone to at least notice, even if they wouldn't help or praise.

But what he had never really considered was that with those things would come other, less pleasant ones. Like being told to go to bed, or being yelled at for not eating enough. Or being spanked.

That part he really could do without.

Except… well, he couldn't really deny that he didn't completely hate the idea of someone caring enough to make rules about his life – even if they were sometimes stupid rules – and get upset about small things like walking in the rain without a jacket. That was… sort of nice, when he took the time to think about it.

Maybe, Reid thought, he'd been right to wish for a proper parent. And maybe, he thought when Gideon and Rossi rejoined him – Rossi grumbling at first, obviously having lost whatever argument they'd had, but soon enough regaining his good temper and teasing both Reid and Gideon again – it wasn't so bad that he had somehow ended up with _two_ fathers.

* * *

**A/N2: Please take the time to leave a review and tell me what you thought! And happy Easter!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is what was going on with Hotch. :)  
**

* * *

"Would you for just one second, _leave me the fuck alone!_"

Hotch was very close to shouting, his fists clenched tightly and his breathing coming in short gasps. Rossi frowned.

"Hotch," he said, with a tone of reprimand in his voice that only made Hotch angrier.

"I'm not a child and I'm not an invalid! I don't need you to hold my hand every moment of the day!"

"Aaron, calm down," Rossi said, now more conciliatory than reproaching and his frown concerned rather than annoyed. Hotch didn't particularly care.

"_No!_" he snapped, pushing a hand through his hair and taking several deep breaths. "I will not calm down! You're… you're…"

He broke off, not sure how to express what he wanted to. That the older man was smothering him with his constant worried questions and his instructions to eat and sleep and a dozen other things. That the concerned looks and the constant watching was driving him mad. He wasn't some helpless child, and Rossi didn't seem to understand that.

"Aaron," the older man said again, "_Calm down_."

For a moment, Hotch tried to do just that; closing his eyes and forcing himself to breathe deeply. But it didn't work – the frustration that had been pecking at him for days refused to die down – and he abandoned the attempt. "No. No. Screw this, Dave. I'm leaving. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, Hotch turned on his heel to leave, to go to his apartment and be allowed to feel like he wasn't a fragile child on the verge of falling apart. Except, that didn't really work out. As he should have expected, really; since when had he been able to walk away from Rossi?

"Don't walk away from me!" the man snapped, "Ever."

Hotch halted, but he kept his back to Rossi. "Dave," he ground out between tightly clenched teeth, "Just… let me go."

"No. We obviously need to have this conversation. Turn around."

"Dave…"

"Turn around. Now."

Lips tightly pressed together, Hotch obeyed. Rossi was standing with his thumbs in his pockets, his head tilted and his eyebrows drawn together in concern. It pissed Hotch off.

"Don't look at me like that!" he growled. Rossi's frown deepened.

"Hotch…" he said, confusion obvious in his voice. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing is the matter with me! That's the problem. _I'm fine_. So stop… smothering me!"

"Smothering you?" Rossi echoed incredulously, "I'm trying to keep you alive."

"I _don't need_ you to! I'm not… I'm not _helpless!_" He spit out the last word contemptuously, trying to let just his anger show and not the frustration and the fear. But Rossi saw through it, if his face softening and his sad smile was anything to go by.

"Aaron… I know you're not. But that's not the same thing as not needing any help. _You almost died_."

"It was two fucking months ago!" Hotch more or less yelled, too tired of Rossi's refusal to understand to bother trying to keep reasonably calm.

Rossi's eyebrows drew together in a deep frown. "Don't shout at me."

"Then don't pester me!"

"Aaron, I'm serious. Calm down."

"Or what? You'll ground me?" Hotch gave a bitter laugh. "You already don't let me out of your sight. Do you think I'll kill myself if you aren't there to supervise?"

For a split second, a look of genuine hurt passed over Rossi's face, but the man quickly covered it up – quickly enough for Hotch to ignore the small pang of guilt at having caused it – and instead his face tightened. "Either calm down right now or go stand in the corner."

"I don't want to calm down!"

Hotch fully expected his words to be met with more anger, probably a repeat of the ultimatum and possibly a few swats to his backside to reinforce it. Instead Rossi tilted his head, for a moment just studying Hotch in silence.

"What _do_ you want?" he finally asked. Hotch frowned.

"What?" he demanded.

"You don't want to be calm. You don't want me to be concerned about you. You don't want me to ask questions." Rossi spread his hand, giving Hotch a bewildered look. "So what do you want?"

"I want…" Hotch began, intending to tell Rossi exactly what he wanted, which was… something. Something that wasn't what the older man was doing right now, something that would let Hotch feel like everything was all right. Something that would make _everything_ all right. He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. "I don't know. I don't know what I want, all right?" He gave another bitter bark of laughter that ended up sounding more like a sob. "I… I want to be fine."

"Oh, Aaron…" Rossi said softly and before Hotch quite knew it, he was enveloped in a warm embrace, "I know, son. I know. And you will be."

With a shuddering breath, Hotch allowed himself to relax into his old mentor's hug. "I try, Dave. I'm trying to be fine, but it's not working."

"You don't have to be fine," Rossi soothed, "No-one expects you to be."

"I know," Hotch mumbled, "But I _want _to be."

Rossi nodded, moving a hand to stroke Hotch's hair. "You can't be, right now. I know that's hard, but you haven't really got any choice but to try and deal with it, okay?"

"I can't."

"You have to."

Hotch pulled away from Rossi, glaring at him. "Didn't you hear me? I _can't_, Dave!" He swallowed, feeling his eyes stinging with tears, thankfully unshed for the moment. Crying wouldn't make Rossi any more willing to leave him alone. "I… I just… I hate this!"

For a moment Hotch thought that Rossi would pull him down over his knee; he took Hotch's arm in a firm grip and dragged him over to the couch. But instead of maneuvering Hotch into a position suitable to make his point with the help of his hand, Rossi pushed Hotch down onto the couch before taking a seat next to him. Then he wrapped his arms around Hotch and pulled him into one of the fiercest embraces Hotch had ever experienced.

"Shhh," Rossi murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Hotch's head.

"Let me go!" Hotch protested, futilely trying to pull away from Rossi's hold.

"No," Rossi replied simply, giving his neck a squeeze.

Hotch forced himself to give a hard chuckle, trying to be angry and distant and not let the comforting warmth of Rossi's tight embrace reach him. Being angry was better than breaking down into frustrated desperation. But it didn't work. Like it always did, Rossi's comfort crushed Hotch's emotional barriers and the attempt at a derisive laugh turned into a harsh sob. He didn't resist Rossi as he apparently tried to envelop Hotch completely in the hug, despite the fact that Hotch was far too big for it, and gratefully hid his face in the crook of Rossi's neck.

"Shh," Rossi repeated, rocking Hotch gently, "Everything's going to be fine. I promise."

The older man continued murmuring soothing phrases, switching to Italian, and even though Hotch knew it was ridiculous and childish of him, he found himself half believing the assurances.

He let the sobs wrack his body, clinging to Rossi like a desperate child and ignoring the part of him that told him to pull away and pretend he was fine. Instead he let his emotions slip away from him, his control crumbling into nothing and simply trusting Rossi to keep him together.

Hotch didn't really have any idea how long it took until his crying died down, his breathing was somewhat under control and he didn't feel like he was on the very verge of falling apart completely; all he knew was that all through his desperate breakdown, Rossi's warm presence had been there.

"Atta boy," Rossi murmured when Hotch's sobs had stopped and he just rested in Rossi's embrace. "Shh…"

"I don't…" Hotch began, but his voice cracked before he could finish. He swallowed. "I don't know why I reacted like that. I'm sorry."

He didn't pull away, though. He knew he should, that staying like this would only make Rossi less willing to believe that Hotch was fine. But for once he couldn't be bothered to act like a competent adult; he was hurting and being enveloped in Rossi's tight embrace was making it better.

"Don't, Aaron. There's nothing to be sorry for. You needed this."

"I don't want to feel like this," Hotch mumbled. Rossi gave his neck a light squeeze.

"I know. I know. And I _promise_ it'll get better."

Hotch laughed weakly. "You can't promise that, Dave."

"Yes, I can. And you'll just have to believe me."

"What if I don't want to?" Hotch countered, knowing he was being childish. Rossi gave his ear a light tug.

"Since when does it matter what you want when I know better?"

This time Hotch's chuckle actually sounded like one rather than a sob or a plea for help. For a moment he considered pulling away from Rossi's embrace and to try to compose himself, but then he decided that he was just too comfortable. And besides he had already broken down completely; a few more minutes of allowing himself to take comfort wouldn't make much of a difference.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, "For shouting at you."

Rossi ran a hand over his hair. "We'll deal with that later."

Suddenly suspicious, Hotch pulled away slightly to give Rossi a narrow-eyed look. "What do you mean 'deal with it'?"

"Nothing, Hotch. Don't worry about it," Rossi said, appeasing, and moved as if to pull Hotch back into the embrace, but Hotch warded him off with a raised hand.

"No. What do you mean, 'deal with it'? I'm sorry for shouting at you but I'm not that sorry."

Giving Hotch and exasperated look, Rossi shook his head. "What I meant was that we'll talk about what has you so frustrated, beyond the whole Foyet thing. But maybe we need to talk about some attitude improvement as well."

"Oh," Hotch said sheepishly, heat rushing to his cheeks. "Sorry."

Rossi scoffed. "Just another sign we need to talk. Why are you so angry at me? Have I done something I don't know about?"

Hotch grimaced, raising a hand to rub awkwardly at his neck. "No… Not really. It's just… You've kind of been a bit… overprotective, Dave. I don't need you to ask me if I'm sleeping okay ten times a day."

"Hey!" Rossi protested, "I'm not that bad."

"You called me when you were grocery shopping. You'd been gone half an hour."

"Okay, so I'm concerned. Can you blame me?"

"Of course not. But…" Hotch sighed, raising a hand to rub at his forehead, "You leave Mudgie alone longer than me, Dave. I know you're worried, but I'm a grown man and I'm… I'm not completely fine, but I _am_… okay."

Rossi sighed. "Aaron… last time I left you alone you traipsed off into a forest in the rain."

"And you made your point about not doing that again," Hotch replied patiently, "Couldn't you please just… trust your point-making abilities?"

"Well… I do try to be thorough." Rossi smiled and gave Hotch's shoulder a firm pat. "All right. I'll back off a little."

Hotch smiled back, probably a little more elated than he should be; Rossi wasn't giving him anything more than the space to feel like an adult, after all. Before he could say anything, Rossi raised his hand.

"_But_," he said, "We're gonna need some ground rules."

"Beyond the two dozen you already have for me?"

"Don't be a smartass," Rossi reprimanded, more joking than stern, "And yes, beyond those. About the basic stuff that I've trusted you to deal with on your own so far."

"What, are you going to give me a bedtime?" Hotch drawled, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline.

"Yes," Rossi replied flatly.

"_What_!?"

Rossi shrugged. "If I can't personally monitor your sleeping habits I want to know that you at least know what's expected of you."

"That's… _crazy, _Dave! I'm not a child," Hotch protested. Then he went for a somewhat underhanded tactic, giving his mentor a wounded look. "Don't you trust me?"

With a small smile, Rossi reached out a hand to capture Hotch's face, his warm hand cupping Hotch's cheek. "I trust you in more ways than I can count," he said gently, running his thumb over Hotch's cheekbone, "But right now taking care of yourself isn't one of them."

"Dave…" Hotch began, drawing his eyebrows together to scowl at his mentor as he pulled away from the far too soothing touch.

Rossi broke him off. "No, Aaron. This isn't negotiable."

"But…"

"Tell you what," Rossi said, "Look me in the eye and tell me you deserve to be trusted about this and I won't say anything more about it."

Hotch hesitated, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue as he considered. He could do what Rossi was asking – demand his rights as an adult – and he might even make the older man believe him. Except… well, he _couldn't. _Not really. He couldn't look the man he probably respected most in the world and lie. He lowered his eyes.

"It's not fair," he muttered, even to his own ears sounding petulant.

"Maybe not. But I don't care." Rossi grabbed hold of his chin, angling Hotch's head up to look him in the eye with an intense look. "Aaron, there's nothing I wouldn't do to keep you safe, even if you hate it. Do you understand that?"

"I… yes, I do, I suppose. But… a _bedtime_, Dave?"

Rossi shrugged. "Not a bedtime necessarily. I just want you to get enough sleep."

"And how much is enough?"

"Eight hours."

"Six," Hotch countered and then added, after a moment's thought: "and a half."

"Not a negotiation. Eight hours, minimum. Your body needs rest to heal."

Hotch considered continuing arguing – there were several points he could make, after all – but the familiar steely look in Rossi's eyes made him change his mind. When his mentor looked like that there was very little chance of changing his mind.

"What else?" he asked instead with a resigned sigh. Rossi rewarded his compliance with a small smile and a pat to his shoulder.

"Three meals a day. Pain medication when you need it. And most importantly, you tell me when you need help. You tell me when something's bothering you or if you're in pain or if you're just having a bad day, all right?"

"All right," Hotch agreed with a small nod, "I'll try."

"You'll do more than try. Your break these rules, there aren't any second chances. I _will_ put you over my knee and I _will_ spank you. Do we understand each other?"

"But…"

"No buts." Rossi once again caught Hotch's face in his hand, cupping his cheek as he trained that unnervingly intense look at him. "I've told you before that kids don't have to like their parents all the time. This is one of those times. I would spank you every day for the rest of your life if that's what it took to keep you alive and well."

"That's…" Hotch faltered, not sure what to say. What exactly did his mentor's – his parent, according to Rossi – threat, or maybe promise, make him feel? A part of him hated it, obviously. How could he not hate being told that there was a possibility, no matter how small, that he would be spanked for the rest of his life? Another part wanted to protest, to tell Rossi that he had no right to make a threat like that and shout some more at the older man. And then there was the very annoying part that felt warm at the words and liked the commitment they signaled.

"I don't doubt it," he finally settled on. Rossi smiled.

"Good." He kept his gaze steadily fixed on Hotch for several seconds, before he pushed back the hair from Hotch's forehead in a familiar affectionate gesture. "I love you, Aaron. You know that, right?"

Uncomfortable, Hotch pulled away and averted his eyes. He cleared his throat. "I… yes. Yes, I know that."

"Good. So… are we clear? I'll back off as long as you follow the rules."

Hotch nodded. "We're clear. And…" He raised a hand to rub his neck, a bit embarrassed. "It's not that I don't appreciate your concern, Dave. It's just… a bit much."

Rossi smiled. "I get it. I may have gone a bit overboard. But don't tell Jason I admitted that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he told me that the reason you were being so snippy was that you felt crowded. And I'm on principle against ever letting him know he's right about something."

"He'll know," Hotch pointed out, "And… I don't think I was being snippy."

"Oh yeah, you were. We should have a talk about that, by the way." Rossi crossed his arms, leveling Hotch with a stern look. "You're an adult, Aaron. If something's bothering you you're perfectly capable of speaking to me about it instead of acting up."

Feeling his cheeks heating, Hotch lowered his eyes. "I don't think I 'acted up'," he muttered.

"Really?" Rossi raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You cursed at me. You only do that when you want to get a reaction."

"That's not true!" Hotch protested, looking up at Rossi with a deep frown, "I curse when I'm angry."

"When you're angry and you want me to react to it," Rossi corrected, "You know, if I had cursed at my parents – or at Stark for that matter – they would have spanked me without hesitation."

"But fortunately you're not them?" Hotch tried with a hopefully disarming smile. He knew he had been… disagreeable, but he really didn't think he deserved a spanking for it. Rossi scoffed.

"Nah. I'm really too soft, you know. I'll let it slide, this time. But think about it in the future. I don't like being cursed at."

"I know. And I'm sorry. I don't… it's not that I want to show any disrespect." He gave the older man a somewhat shy smile. "Because I do respect you. Really."

"I know. I don't take what little boys say when they're throwing tantrums to heart."

Hotch blushed furiously. "Dave!"

"What? I think I've earned the right to some teasing after all the shouting you did."

"This is another one of those times when I don't like you."

Rossi chuckled. "Noted. By the way, do you want to eat here or do you want to go home? Because I should probably start cooking."

"I…" Hotch trailed off and hesitated for a moment, "Here? If you don't mind."

Reaching out to run his knuckles over Hotch's cheekbone, Rossi smiled gently. "Hotch, I won't bug you about letting me do things for you, but that doesn't mean I'm any less willing to do them."

Hotch smiled, a little embarrassed at being read so easily. "Thanks, Dave."

"Anytime, kid."


End file.
